A Serendipitous Friendship
by Chasing the Rainbow
Summary: What if Mary Bennet had a friend? And what if her dearest friend just happened to be the granddaughter of a duke?
1. Chapter 1

Mrs Jones, the wife of Meryton's elderly rector, despite the occasional rheumatic paroxysms lived a rather content and comfortable life. Her situation was respectable and her affable open manner ensured she was always engaged in a tête-à-tête with one of the parishioners, followed by tea and some baked goods. Nonetheless, after they took their leave, their tales of childish antics at home, wounded her tender heart for she had not been similarly blessed and she would plunge herself into a wistful fancy. Her fancy would take the figure of Miss Mary Bennet, a twelve year old daughter of Longbourn; whose plain looks in comparison to the beauty of her sisters ensured she was always overlooked.

Mary Bennet enjoyed her weekly pilgrimages to the rectory, for Mrs Jones was a warm maternal figure without the remonstrations of her wanting looks. She was both Mary's confidante and only friend, for she was dismissed at home as silly and a prudish bluestocking in the village. Assisting Mrs Jones in her errands and tending to the poor kept Mary as equally employed and happy as when she practiced on the pianoforte or read a book.

In an autumnal afternoon, as she traipsed down a path of golden and reddish hues to Longbourn from the rectory in merry spirits, Mary espied a figure clad in primrose hastening to a trunk. Intrigued, Mary began to follow, but the crunching of the leaves, alerted the figure to her presence.

Whirling around, eyes wide and frantic, the figure pleaded, "Please, I beseech you. Do not reveal me."

Nodding in obeisance, Mary watched as the figure straggled up the trunk and hid amongst the branches. Shaking her head, Mary turned and began her way back home, when she heard distinct furious voices.

"Where is she? That damn little wretch!" cursed a man. "Albert, if we don't find her, lord knows what'll the mistress shall do to us".

"Phil, you mean what the master will do, if he finds out that she concocted this plot," laughed Albert. "We are to take her across the Atlantic to America as it is. So, we go without her, she'll be as good as gone anyway."

"Right Albert, we'll scavenge these woods and oft we go," chuckled Phil.

"Look, there's a wee lass, She must have seen something." pointed Albert before exclaiming "Lass!"

Turning around meekly, afraid of being caught in the act of eavesdropping, Mary's eyes widened as a small gasp escaped her as two unsavoury males in dusty travelling clothes approached her.

"Lass, have you seen a fair girl clad in yellow around here?" asked Phil, "You see, my daughter is playing a game of hide and seek with me; and it's getting a tad late."

"No," stuttered Mary, "I saw a pheasant, though."

"Thank ye lass" answered Albert, "Phil, let's go. The ship'll leave tomorrow; and we'll have to ride through the night, if we are to make the passage."

"Your right, the girl won't be able to fend for herself as it is." grunted Phil in acquiesce, as the two men retreated towards Meryton.

The shock of the encounter had finally worn off and Mary disturbed by her admission or rather falsehood, sighed and shrugged in an unladylike fashion, before strolling down the path in an agitated manner once more.

"Wait!" gasped the figure, "I am much obliged to you, but I do not have anything to bestow upon you as a token of my gratitude. Thank you so very much for not telling them my location."

"It is my Christian duty to help those less fortunate than myself. I do not need a reward, for doing what I ought," sniffed Mary, "To fulfil a moral responsibility in exchange for a prize is reprehensible."

"Indeed, you are right," smiled the figure. "I fear there is no other way around this, for I am acquainted with no one in these parts; so I hope you forgive me for this breach in social decorum, I am Alexandra Eleanor Somerset Berkley, but you must call me Annie."

"Oh, I am just Mary Bennet," replied Mary in awe at the girl's forwardness.

"Well, Miss Bennet, would you be so kind as to direct me to a town, which is willing to exchange used hair ribbons and boots for money? I do not believe the post chaise will agree to barter with me, no matter how prettily I smile and flutter my eyelashes." remarked Annie wryly.

Laughing at the remark, Mary blushed and whispered, "Oh, I am terribly sorry."

"Don't be, I find myself in a rather perplexing predicament. It is quite humourous," laughed Annie.

"Well I'll escort you to where the post chaise stops; and I'll give you the money for your fare" replied Mary nonchalantly.

"But that must be a small fortune! I could not possibly accept such a sum," gasped Annie.

"It is alright, I do not spend my allowance on anything but music and books. I can just practice the same pieces at home. It is an amount I can forgo," replied Mary.

"Miss Bennet, you are an angel! Your generosity is humbling," smiled Annie, "Tell me about your home."

"I will," complied Mary, as she guided her new friend to Meryton. "I am the middle daughter of a family of five girls. My father owns a small estate, Longbourn, about two miles from here. It is entailed away, so my mother's nerves are easily vexed; and she hopes that we all marry well to secure our futures. As you can see, I am quite plain, and my mother quite despairs for my future prospects, so I like to read or practice on the pianoforte. My mother says my accomplishments are all I have."

"Ah, you are a great conversationalist as well Miss Bennet," smiled Annie, "and would you be so kind as to tell me, which county I am in?"

"Hertfordshire," replied Mary merrily, "And where do you hail from?"

"Gloucestershire, so three counties from here," answered Annie, "I believe we would have been the best of friends Miss Bennet, had we lived in the same county. I am twelve and you are appear to be the same age as me. It is a pity."

"I am twelve," grinned Mary, "You must call me Mary, if I am to address you as Annie. It would only be proper. We are here, will you be safe?"

"I will be, shall you be? You have taken a great diversion in bringing me here and it is getting quite dark." asked Annie worriedly.

"I will be fine," grinned Mary, as she took out her purse and handed over a couple of shillings. "Just in case, you might not be able to barter."

"Thank you Mary, would you like to correspond with me?" asked Annie apprehensively.

"I would like that very much," replied Mary, "I should go home now."

***

"Alexandra Eleanor Somerset Berkley!" bellowed the Marquis of Berkley at his oldest daughter. "What were you thinking of running away as far as the outskirts of this county? Is it not enough that you live in this finery and I purchase anything that catches your fancy?"

"Father, I did not run away! And I went as far as Hertfordshire!" cried Annie indignantly, "I did not decide on a whim to explore the wild landscape of England. Your wife decided to have me kidnapped by two scoundrels who were to take me to America! If you are to lose your patience at anyone it should be at her!"

"Alexandra, I will not have you speaking lies about your mother." exclaimed the Marquis.

"Lies? She is not my mother! She is your second wife, if you cannot keep count. Do you think I enjoyed two days in a post chaise? Do you know how many of the passengers wreaked of rum? She hired those men to take me away; and I heard them say as such!" yelled Annie.

"I am your father, the head of this household. I will not have you speaking to be with such disrespect. Nor will I tolerate these falsehoods you keep telling about my wife. You will go to your rooms and remain there for a sen'night. Have I made myself clear?" asked the Marquis.

"Indeed you have my Lord," replied Annie, as she sullenly curtsied and exited towards her rooms.

***

Berkley Castle, Gloucestershire

October 18th 1784

My dearest Mary,

Forgive me for not writing earlier, but my father did not appreciate the escapade that led me to Hertfordshire and I have been for the past week confined to my rooms. I hope you are well and that your family remains in great spirits. Though my sojourn in Hertfordshire was not planned, I am thankful that it gave me the opportunity to become acquainted with you. Your kindness and generosity warmed my very heart, for my current company is filled with artifice, superficiality, greed and deceit.

I was not completely honest with you when we met, as I was apprehensive and uncertain of how you would respond if you knew of my true origins. Most people of my acquaintance refer to me as Lady Alexandra. My father is the Marquess of Berkley and is very wealthy. May I be so bold to ask for your confidence Mary? You are the only dear friend I have ever known. The current Lady of Berkley is a vile, repulsive creature. She was his mistress before my mother died giving birth to me. He married her and she despises me with a passion. I am in the greatest confidence that you must have reached some conjecture having heard those two villains speak. She hired them to take me to the wilds of America, without my father's knowledge or consent. I believe she would murder me herself, if she could. She is a devious, cunning Jezebel.

I hope you can overlook these objections to my character and wish to remain friends with me. I assure you, if I had the choice, I would disown her. I too am the middle child. I have a brother, my senior by two years, James. And then there is the daughter of the current Lady Berkley, Caroline, who is just as vapid and a true reflection of her mother. I shall say no more on this subject, for my bitterness is showing; and I wish for you to see me as a creature of utmost perfection, someone worthy to be a friend of yours.

I am afraid we did not delve deeper into tastes and preferences in music or books. I have enclosed some sheet music from various composers, as I am not sure, which you would prefer. Forgive me, if it is presumptuous, but I have also enclosed some books, which guide you in French, German and Latin, as I am not sure if you are acquainted with any of those languages. There are some great works of literature in those languages, which I would like you to read and provide me with your thoughts and feelings. My brother and I sometimes engage in debates over them; and I would like another opinion.

In case you think I am an utmost bore, I have also enclosed some pastries, which Cook assures me will last the distance and not stale until they reach you. They are some of my favourites. You will find the sum you gave me in a small purse, which I attempted to embroider for you. Forgive me, but my embroidery will never be admired. I hope the parcel will bring you much joy and remind you that someone can see past the exterior to admire and appreciate the wonderful person you actually are.

Please don't reply to this missive or direct anything to the above location. I am trying to convince my grandfather to come save me from these confines and take me to his estate. I will write to you from there and we shall begin our proper correspondence. God bless you.

Yours with much affection,

Annie


	2. Chapter 2

Somerset Manor, Gloucestershire

November 18th 1790

My dearest Mary,

I am in the highest of spirits. My grandfather is to travel across the Continent sojourning in Italy in the spring and I am to accompany him! Do not fret my dearest friend, for you shall not experience my absence in correspondence, as I am in the fullest belief that you shall readily accept the invitation I am to extend. My grandfather has granted his consent, so you need not fret and concern yourself of my impulsive nature and disrespect for authority. I hold both in high regard. You need not fret. I have complied and behaved myself admirably due to your guidance and stern words, for I could not bear a reproach from you, my oldest friend.

It appears I am excessively diverted! Mary, will you tolerate my company and traverse the Continent with my grandfather and I? I would be much obliged to you if you did, for the company of a hired companion is not the hare that I do hunt. You must accept, and once you do, I shall devise a plan with my grandfather to obtain your father's consent. Is your father beguiled by those in the possession of a title or a member of the illustrious peerage? For, if he were, my fancy and yours should run rampant and imagine the pleasant pastimes we shall have in the Italian countryside. Nonetheless, I am certain you shall accompany me and go on your own set of adventures. Mary, you do not state it outright, but I do perceive an envious tone when you write about your sisters travelling to town and quite possibly Kent?

You must enlighten me next time we meet, how one can envy their sister. Or is it because I am in the possession of a half-wit for a sister? I have the most humorous anecdote to tell you, though you shall scold me for my unkind thoughts. Caroline began quoting Pope, Gray and Shakespeare the night before last whilst at dinner. You should have seen the utmost delight diffuse across my father's face. I wish to call him a simpleton, but I cannot for he only exhibits such signs when in the presence of his wife or Caroline. It is rather disappointing. Continuing, he remains in the fullest belief that his dearest daughter, (not I for my relationship with his wife), Caroline is an intellectual. Far be it for me to discourage such scholarly activities by displaying a modicum of surprise. I, being the supportive well-bred sister that I am, initiated a discussion with her.

I said, "Caroline, I am surprised you enjoyed such a work as Much Ado about Nothing. The tragic ending where all the players succumbed was far too much for me, how did you bear it?"

She in turn replied, "I suppose Alexandra, I have a preference for the more tragic works, I feel they are more revealing about the human soul."

"Indeed," I remarked, "I was of the understanding that Much Ado about Nothing is regarded as a comedy; and that none of the characters pass on"

Then, her mother scolded me for speaking such nonsense. Thus, I am banished from the Castle, as you must have surmised at the forefront of this letter, and am staying with my grandfather. Though clearly my in depth discussion with Caroline revealed she had not read the works. I did some investigating, not engaging in any acts of espionage, but meticulously observing my neighbor as the law suggests we English people should. I shall tell you what I discovered. The most abhorrent abuse of literature men has ever seen, and I blame the printing presses and those tradesmen who printed such books to acquire riches. She had a publication, which printed passages from works well received by the viewers. It was entitled, A Young Lady's Literary Guidance. Absolutely despicable, such manipulations, such deceit. Though you must agree that it was rather amusing when I provoked her; and if you do agree than you cannot reprimand me for my dislike of her. Besides, truly we are not sisters.

My father is still the overindulgent fool, blinded by that wife of his. I am surprised the estate has not been run down and the finances remain stable, considering the expenses, that woman acquires. You have heard my description of Caroline. My grandfather is quite well for his five and sixty years, though he relies on his cane more than he use to. My grandfather is most anxious to meet you. He is perplexed at how a woman of gentle birth, who has had the opportunity of an education, would defy sense and reason and remain my dearest friend for all these years. I told him it was because you were goodness personified. And do not deny it, for out of my limited acquaintance, you most certainly are dear Mary. Oh good news, James has finished at Oxford and is to graduate as the valedictorian. I am so proud of him, but I shall in earnest try to rein in this pride of mine.

My best wishes to your family and their health. God bless you.

Yours with much affection,

Annie.

***

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

November 22nd 1890

Annie,

I thank you most heartily for your kind words to my family and I. And I shall assure you that we are in the best of health. There is happy news I wish to impart to you. My elder sisters, Jane and Elizabeth are engaged to Mr. Charles Bingley and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. My mother is, shall I use your expression, excessively diverted. Three daughters married, with a son in the possession of ten thousand a year! Her nerves are in a frenzy and she calls for her smelling salts more often than not. I had always perceived that her nerves were a result of the stress arising from the knowledge that my father's death would leave us girls penniless, but I think I shall have to reach another conclusion.

You were indeed uncharitable to your sister, Caroline. Even if she is the daughter of the woman, you so despise, you must consider that she did not choose such a mother, nor could she determine her existence. Further, not all human beings are endowed with similar attributes; and you must be patient with her. I will say though, it was very bad of her to put up such a pretence, particularly with Shakespearean works.

And to address the question you most earnestly wish me to, I must say that I am grateful and delighted that you invited me to join you on your travels. I fear I cannot provide the affirmative answer you so desire. After the incident with Lydia, the one I wrote in much distress, my father has forbidden myself and Kitty to venture off without his or my elder sister's supervision. Further, I believe his trust in the protection provided by those that are not family have been severely wounded; and you are a stranger to him. He would not entrust me to your care or that of your grandfather's despite suggesting I was one of the silliest girls in all of England. It would have brought me the greatest delight to explore the Italian countryside with you, Annie. Nevertheless, it cannot be. Do not fret, my dear friend. You are going to the Continent. You must write to me as you always have.

I am to go to London for a whole month and I shall be residing at my Aunt Gardiner's house on Gracechurch Street. We are to prepare Jane's and Elizabeth's wedding trousseau; and only London's finest warehouses will do. I will get a new, pretty dress for the wedding. Am I not the most fortunate girl in the world? To be promised a pretty dress with frills? It fulfils my heart's every desire. Kitty is all delight. I believe Kitty and your sister could become the dearest of friends.

Send my earnest reassurances to his Grace, that I am quite well and it is your psychological disposition that he should contemplate, for you remain a friend of mine. I am terribly sorry to not include any intriguing details, which would delight your fancy, but I am terribly late. I am to call on Mrs. Jones to assist her in her weekly errands.

Yours & c.

***

Somerset Manor, Gloucestershire

November 29th 1790

Mary,

Your excuses for not accompanying me to Italy are unacceptable. I have already told you that at this moment, it is only your consent to the scheme, which concerns me. By your expression of delight if you were able to go on such a trip, I am interpreting that I have your consent to the scheme. My grandfather and I shall woo your father and you shall come with us. Pray, when are you to town? I feel this inclination to go to town and become better acquainted with your family. My grandfather would enjoy the busy atmosphere, I am certain.

Well if your mother is in raptures of having ten-thousand a year, at least she shall consent for certain, if not your father. Your recounts with your mother's use of smelling salts are so amusing. I wish Lady Berkley would require smelling salts. It would make provoking her, much more easier. She is much too dominating and sneering for my liking. Should I oust her as a witch after shipping her to America? It would bring much more joy into my life. Alas, your letter has reminded me to visit the tenants on my grandfather's estate I have not visited them for a while.

Your devoted servant,

Annie

***

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

December 3rd 1890

Annie,

I do not know why you deem me so special, for I am just plain Mary. Surely, you could have much better company than I. I do not understand why you keep insisting. Though your insistence has gratified my vanity greatly. We are to be in town in January, but my stay has been shortened to a fortnight, for it would not be proper to burden my Uncle's residence with five additional residents for too long. I will be in London in the first week of January and home by the third. The weddings are to be in March. My sisters are sharing.

I am delighted to hear of your progress with the tenants. You are fulfilling your duty as a human being. Though, your inability to reconcile with the current Lady Berkley is rather distressing. Nevertheless, I am much appreciative of the person you have blossomed into.

Yours affectionately,

Mary

***

Somerset Manor, Gloucestershire

December 11th 1790

Dearest Mary,

I shall be in town by late December and remain there until the middle of February. It is a settled matter between grandfather and I. I shall call on you and your family at Gracechurch Street; and my grandfather and I shall persuade your father; and he shall give his consent; and we shall be off to Italy!

Enjoy the holidays Mary and I do hope you like my gift. And thank you for your kind words. They are reassuring to my conscience and the preservation of my soul. We shall meet once more in town of all places. Would it be wrong if I acquainted frogs to Caroline's bed sheets?

Your humble servant,

Annie

***

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

December 18th 1890

Annie,

You would not dare. No, you would. I suppose the frogs have already become acquainted with the bed sheets by the time my missive arrives. I will however, engage in the holiday spirit and abstain from reprimanding you for such childish antics. Thank you for your lovely gift. It is a lovely locket. I wish you would not spend so extravagantly on your gifts, when I cannot give you one of this stature in return. I am most regretful with the gift I have enclosed. But I hope you shall like it, for I put considerable thought into what to procure.

I shall see you at Gracechurch Street the following month yonder.

Yours & C.


End file.
